Page 35 of Where We Belong

Nyk’s eyes darken when he swings his legs over the side of the sofa and strokes his dark beard in thought. I weave around a book scarpering across the floor and stare out at the barracks, watching the Volker spar and laugh, blades flashing, insults flying. It still feels strange seeing them so at ease. When Quilo ran things, silence was king. Unless you were training, you kept your mouth shut. No talking, joking, or bonding. Of course, Nyk, Tobian, Leander, and I didn’t follow any of those rules. I vowed that once the Volker were mine, I would give them something better. I was born for this. Before I took my first breath, I was destined to lead the Volker. Lead our people to freedom alongside The Black Flame. So, Herod placed me in the palace to wait for my betrothed. Even still, with The Prophetic Creed and training on my side, I had failed. But, if there is anything I am learning from these times, it is to forgive myself.

“I have a list of those we must watch in addition to him. Anka, Eira—”

“Eira?” Nyk chuckles, reclining again. “She’s smart enough, but her loyalty to Aiden is absolute.” And that could be part of the problem.

“So why is she bothering with you?” I smirk, glancing over my shoulder at him. “She is using you, yes?”

Nyk grins. “Maybe. But I don’t mind. Use me, Eira, use me!” He shouts dramatically, throwing an arm across his forehead. I try to shake my head unapprovingly, but a laugh escapes instead. That laughter wilts on my lips when the door bursts open, and Leander and Tobian traipse in. I roll my shoulders, forcing them to relax.

“No knock?” I say through gritted teeth.

“For what?” Tobian drops into the armchair as if it belongs to him. It might as well; his ass has practically left a permanent imprint. He balances a silver tray on his lap and shovels food into his mouth as if he hasn’t seen a meal in days. How he stays so slender, I’ll never understand.

“What do you mean, ‘for what’?” Nyk swings his legs out of the way so Leander can sit. “I could’ve had a lady in here.”

Tobian snorts, shoving a heaped spoonful of rice into his mouth, a few grains spraying as he grins. “Eira’s a lady now?”

“Well, yes,” Nyk shoots back, throwing Leander a look as if daring him to comment too, but he is too busy dabbing the corners of his mouth with a napkin. Pinky out.

Tobian spears four different types of meat onto his fork. “Calm down, I knew she wasn’t in here, Nyky. I could scent Kaed from the hallway. He is very sexy, but not your type.”

“I’m everyone’s type,” I mutter, barely paying attention as they all chuckle and change the subject. My gaze has drifted back to the barracks, but I’m not watching the soldiers anymore. She’s here. Walking towards the mess hall, linking arms with Eira and smiling faintly. I inhale sharply, only then realizing I had stopped breathing, and every sound around me dulls. The world narrows until there is only her, before something warm beneath my skin softens and sharpens all at once. She still hasn’t changed her clothes. The next thump of my heart is painful. She is still hurting. I have been trying to stay out of sight. Out of her way. But right now, I have little strength left to fight it even if I wanted to. I need to see her. I need to talk to her. I need her.

“I’m going to get something to eat,” I say, pushing away from the window. “I’ll be back in a minute.” Nyk starts to yell for me to bring him some lamb chops, but I’m out the door before he can finish his sentence.

Chapter 34

Ashley

She became the air inside my lungs,

my peace, my home, my art.

I follow Eira through the mess hall. Rows of pillars surround the long, dark wooden banquet tables. They’re just like the one in the palace dining room. Each table is set with flickering candles, though when I look closer, the flames aren’t made of fire but tiny glowing fairylike creatures, dancing to music I can’t hear. The hall is alive with the clatter of dishes, conversation, and the smell of hearty food. Territorial lines don’t seem to mean anything here; everyone is scattered among the tables. Eira leads us to an empty one. Volker rise and bow every time we step past them. I smile awkwardly and nod back once, twice, then way too many times, and decide it’s safer to look at the floor than risk breaking my neck from politeness.

“I’ll be back.” She disappears into the bustling queue and returns a little later with two plates and a hopeful smile. I offer a small grin in return, reaching for my fork out of habit. I appreciate her effort, I really do, but the noise in the hall is overwhelming. Which is funny, because I used to be that girl at the club taking shots and dancing next to the DJ for six hours straight. I miss her. Though, in hindsight, she was a bit of a mess. I’m poking at my salad when something sharp yanks at me, like speaker feedback straight down my spine. My magic loses its damn mind. It lashes against the wards holding it down, clawing along my ribs so sharply I nearly flinch. I don’t even need to turn around. I know what that is. Who that is. Captain Kaed. I almost forgot how tall he is. How broad. How effortlessly commanding. He towers over everyone, swallowing the place up with a presence that can’t be explained. His eyes find mine immediately, like I called him. And I think something in me did. Soldiers straighten and salute, words of respect tumbling from their mouths as he walks in my direction, not paying them any notice. I force my wide eyes back to my plate, prodding at the salad again but not really seeing it, hoping that moving it around might calm my nerves. But a shiver races down my neck, the fine hairs on my body lifting as if every cell inside me is stretching toward him. I’ve tried to imagine how this would feel. How I’d react, seeing him again. I even planned to go looking for him more than once but chickened out each time, and now that it’s happening, now that he’s here, I’m a tangled wreck. But, what’s new? I don’t think I’m afraid, but something’s still there. Maybe he’s giving me space on purpose and I don’t blame him. But I don’t want space. I constantly wonder where he is, what he’s thinking. It’s like something bound us together, like no one else could ever really understand.

“Ashley.”

The gorgeous scent of fresh laundry, vanilla, and orange surrounds me. The way he says my name in his deep, careful tone sinks right under my skin and sets my soul on edge. His matted beard is long gone, replaced by a shadow of stubble on his chiseled jaw, emphasising the vertical marks tattooed onto his cheeks. His once wild hair is shaved into a pristine buzzcut. Those bright, captivating eyes, almost golden in this light, are so full of concern. He’s so close I see the tiny flecks of sage dotted about them. The pressed, black uniform that fits him so perfectly is completely at odds with the condition I remember him in. When I dragged him across that floor. But even in my state of awe at the piece of art standing in front of me, his proximity makes my heart thump. Not entirely in a good way.

“I’m sorry I startled you. I only came to greet you. You need not fear me.”

“Anymore, you mean.” I half joke.

Conversations are replaced by hushed murmurs, and something like hurt flashes over him for barely a second. Anyone else would miss it, but I know his face all too well. Even if he looks like a stranger compared to the male who collected vials of my blood. I regret my words instantly, but I’m not sure why. It’s like his pain hooks straight into my chest, like it’s mine. I’ve felt him, ever since that night on the beach, pulling me closer. In the cells, I wanted to protect him and now that desire is almost suffocating. As if protecting him and protecting myself are becoming one and the same.

“Anymore,” he swears. “Ever again. My hands will never cause you harm. They are yours and they will forever protect, defend and shield you. Even if it costs me my life.”

“How… dramatic,” I say, forcing the words out to push away the feeling of something I don’t really know how to process. There’s a beat of silence, then the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen in my life spreads across his face, lighting it up completely. Deep dimples crease his cheeks, and my eyes are drawn to polished, white, elongated canines that nearly graze his full bottom lip. God, he looks like sin. A low, rich chuckle escapes him and all I want to do is hear it again.

“May I?” He gestures to the empty seat across from me and I nod. The room is starting to buzz with life again, though a few eyes still glance over to us now and then. He flips the chair around and drops into it with a thud, resting his forearms on the table. His biceps press against the fabric of the short sleeved top he wears, and that thing between us shakes with tension as my breath catches. He’s still intimidating, but there’s something so alive, so tender about him. The way he leans forward into the chair, relaxed, instead of sitting stiff and lifeless puts me at ease ever so slightly. The hollow, bloodless look he once wore is gone, replaced by sun-kissed skin, faint smile lines, and tiny crinkles around his fiery eyes.

“You must eat.”

“I’m not hungry.” I place the fork down.

“Are you feeling okay?”